breakbeat is arrhythmia…
as flushed covey quail
on tiny speed blurred feet
mottled… plump beneath
vaguely Egyptian topknots;
they tremble in their dash
is silver Dobro hover slip
in a make up bluegrass band
at Wednesday music church
is their backcountry spillsplash
fiddle…lemon yellow flash
banjo… copper blood orange bright
bass…tobacco midnight blue
breakbeat…abrupt heart murmur
we’re this and now we’re that
out in…in out of God
out in…in out of love
out in…in out of innocence
Bonnie Marshall
Artwork by Carol Nelson
Proem... 
wonderful, bonnie. your poem takes the reader through a delightful experience, mostly “upbeat” until the final stanza. and i guess there must always be a final stanza, because of arrhythmia or heart murmur or something else. but thank goodness for the quail, silver Dobros, spillsplash fiddles, and poets who touch us along the way.
And thank goodness for kind and generous readers. Oh, yes, especially for this. Smiles…
Fresh and invigorating…….Smiles…>KB
I’ve never had a reader tell me this before, KB. Appreciate the knowing. Smiles…
Very, very fine.
I’m grateful to know you think so, Simon. Most sincerely.
So cool. Foot tapping time. Beating time… heart skips one, smiles… feeling fine.
Grand to know, Chris, and I appreciate the gift of time for the saying. Smiles…
Your title is often the cadence of my heartbeat as my neighbor across the street banjoes through the hours of the afternoon evening sometimes even sky dark. And on the corner the Trinity Methodist bible belts tolerantly allowing me to park my car there off the street and in their lot.
Your poem Bonnie, ah your poem….. Thank you ! just the splillsplash any day
Thank you, dear Jana, for your eloquence. You are a gift.
Thank you for the follow. My apologies for taking so long to get back to you. I’m not much of a poet, but I do enjoy reading it. You manage to convey a lot of imagery in very few words!
You’re quite welcome about the follow. A pleasure. Happy you like the poem. Smiles…
Bluegrass played right next to one’s heart.
I feature bluegrass in some of my poetry because I lived in North Carolina and went to an old barn and sat on a hay bail to hear great bands until early in the morning. Love it.